


Well, This Is Certainly A Surprise

by weallfalldowneventually



Category: Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: LMAO, M/M, but it gets better, by i tried to read over it more than usual, ethan is a confused little sad man, everyones sad, i hope it's up to par, i'm so thankful for it!, marks a confused sad man, pt 2 will probably have smut!!, still not beta read, this is a tumblr prompt!!, who would have thunk it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weallfalldowneventually/pseuds/weallfalldowneventually
Summary: The makeup painted haphazardly on his face starts to itch, small beads of sweat mixing with it and irritating his skin.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75





	Well, This Is Certainly A Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> this was a tumblr prompt and i'm so grateful for it!! 
> 
> the wonderful tumblr blog that asked for this fic is newpowercoupleof2020
> 
> i absolutely adore them! they're such a great blog dedicated to crankiplier i definitely suggest checking them out and giving them a follow. 
> 
> i really hope you like it. you are very sweet and kind and deserve nothing but the world my dude

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stomach flipping with uncalled for nerves. The makeup painted haphazardly on his face starts to itch, small beads of sweat mixing with it and irritating his skin. He rolls his neck waiting for Mark to finish looking at the footage Evan took. The lighting doesn't help his anxiousness, the blaring red light making his anxiety worse.

Yes, anxiety. That's all it is. The heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach and the pounding in his ears being caused by nothing else. Because what else would it be? Surely, it was just the way Mark towered over him that left him on edge. Knowing his friend could easily overpower him has his heart spiraling into an uneven pattern. 

Fuck, what's wrong with him?

"Hey, man, you good?" 

Ethan's startled out of his thoughts, eyes wide and wild as they meet Mark's concerned gaze.

He stutters out a laugh, waving his hand, trying to bat away Mark's worries, "Yeah dude, sorry just spaced out."

"Okay, if you say so. Would you be good to go another round?" 

His throat tightens at the mental image of Mark standing over him again, large and domineering, a small shudder running through him. He subconsciously presses his thighs together, sweaty palms coming down to wipe against them. 

"Hey-" he pauses, noticing the slight tremor to his own voice. He clears his throat and tries again, voice steadier now. "Hey, it's just a silly bit. I know you're a perfectionist and all but it's _fine_ , my dude."

Mark sighs, shoulders rising with the force of it, Ethan takes that as a win as he hops out of his seat. He doesn't realize how shaky his knees are until he's upright. Surprise must wash over his face as Mark suddenly takes a step forward, arm reaching out for him, getting ready to steady him if need be.

"You positive you're good?"

"I'm fine," Ethan fakes a yawn, hoping it looks natural. "I'm just tired, I should probably get going-" Mark gives a sympathetic smile, nodding his head in understanding, cutting Ethan off in the process.

"I get it, man, no worries. You can crash here tonight so you don't have to drive tired." Mark lifts a hand up to stop Ethan's rebuttal, it sits pretty on his tongue. 

Ethan tenses as Mark steps closer into his space, arm reaching out to drape itself neatly over his strained shoulders. Mark side-eyes him, a tiny smile playing on the edges of his lips. 

"You're so tense, want a massage?" The arm around his shoulders slips so Mark's hand is pressed between his shoulder blades. Everywhere Mark is touching him burns, the heat from it spreads to his cheeks, flushing them a light pink. He tilts his head away, hoping to anything and everything that Mark doesn't notice.

Fuck. 

He's glad for the red lightning now as his face continues to bloom red, every minute movement Mark makes next to him, worsening it. Irritation blossoms inside his chest, something sudden and sharp as it digs its thorns into him. He pulls away from Mark's arm and the slight prodding it was doing. 

"Nah, I'm good, I'm going home." It comes out a lot harsher than he intended, the slightly confused and hurt look on Mark's face haunting him already. 

"I just wanna see my little boy, Spencie!" He tacks on, baby voice squeaking through as he tries desperately to diffuse the now awkward situation. 

"Yeah, uh, okay, just let me know when you get home then?" Mark's voice lilts up, making his statement sound like an uneasy question.

"Okay! Got it!" He gets out, voice now _overtly_ bright and cheery as he rushes out the door, his heart pounding for several different reasons. 

He gets into his car, overwhelming aware of Mark's eyes on him through the window. His throat is dry and scratchy, begging him for something to drink. With that in mind, he starts his car, backing out slowly and heading towards McDonald's, set on getting a cup of plain water for his horrifically dry throat.

Only once he manages to painfully stutter out his simple request for water through the drive-thru does he start to head home. Gulping down mouthfuls of water has never felt better, the chillness of the water helping steady his mind just a bit. 

The nerves haven't left him but they've lessened, being away from Mark helping settle him and his racing heart. He takes a deep breath, fingers tight on the steering wheel as he tries to make his way home. His left leg bounces, his right too preoccupied with driving, nervous energy ramping back up as his mind wanders back to his body's prior response. 

Anxiety.

Fucking anxiety. 

Right? 

Beads of sweat start to form on his brow as his mind continues to over analyze what just happened.

The painful beating of his heart, the way his throat dried up and lungs stuttered in his chest, his breathing shallow and forced. The way his stomach twisted and-

The desperate ache between his legs. 

Ethan nearly swerves out of his lane as he's hit suddenly with the earth-shattering realization. He was aroused. Ethan was fucking turned on by Mark's blatant show of aggression. 

Ethan was attracted to Mark.

 _Fuck_.

Look, Ethan's not blind, he knows, objectively, that Mark is one hell of a handsome man. He would be lying if he said otherwise. This was different. This was new and terrifying.

This was Ethan's fucking awakening to all of his hidden desires and, oh fuck.

_His feelings._

Sure, he started off as just another fanboy, but somehow along the way, he was given an amazing opportunity to work for his idol. To be close and to study under him. Not only that, as wonderful as it was, he was also somehow lucky enough to befriend him. Got to share special little moments and inside jokes with him. He got to see him during his highs and his lowest of lows. God, he got to have a little slice of Mark all to himself. 

His fingers tighten painfully around the wheel, his knuckles scream for some slack, his straight rod back begging for him to relax back into his seat.

The echoing of his heartbeat is deafening in his ears, drowning out the cars passing by him. They drive past him, completely unaware of his whole life shattering around him. 

Shit. 

Was he fucking-

Was he-

Fuck.

He was in love with Mark. 

Razor blades flutter in his stomach, cutting up his insides as he shakes in his seat, dread settling deep inside of him. He doesn't want this. These feelings feel like acid burning his skin, sizzling away at his flesh and leaving him feeling raw and exposed. Everything in him hurts, the realization that he'll never get to have Mark the way he wants eating away at him.

Ignorance is bliss. 

God, how true is that? The taste of iron blossoms on his taste buds as he feels the sharp sting of teeth breaking through his bottom lip. He takes a few more minutes to sit there, a numbing pain finding a home between each set of his ribs. 

Once he no longer feels like he'll be a hazard on the road does he begin to drive, mind struggling hard to stay focused on what's ahead of him. Thankfully, he makes it home in one piece, body sluggishly shuffling out of his car and to his shared apartment. Everything in him begs to sleep, to close his eyes and forget that this day ever happened. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket making him flinch.

**Markimooooooo**  
**Sent: 6:30 PM**  
**It's been a while since you left and you don't live that far away so I'm just checking in.**

There's a part of him that doesn't want to answer Mark, nagging, irrational anger bubbling up in him. He shakes his head, trying to shake the stupidity from it, as his fingers respond on autopilot. 

**Sent: 6:32 PM**  
**I'm fine, sorry forgot to send you a text.**

**Markimooooooo**  
**Sent: 6:35 PM**  
**Hey man, are you okay? I feel like something's up. You know can talk to me, right?**

His fingers respond faster than he can fully process the words they're typing out.

**Sent: 6:38 PM**  
**You know what Mark? I'd really appreciate if you took me at face value when I said I was FINE. I don't need you fucking babying me Mark, it's getting real annoying.**

He sends it, regret already coiling tightly in his stomach. It leaves him feeling even more exhausted, eyes weary as he makes his way to his bedroom, bypassing Spender in the process. Tears blur his vision as he faceplants into his bed, blankets working wonders to quiet his sobs. 

The slight vibration startles him, tears and the shaking of his fingers making it hard to reach for his phone. Guilt eats at him as he opens the new message, fresh tears re-wetting previous trails down his cheeks.

**Markimooooooo**  
**Sent: 6:50 PM**  
**I'm sorry.**

His phone is across the room in a matter of seconds, agonized sobs pouring out of him. His thoughts turn dark as he curls up on his bed, fingernails digging painfully into his palms.

He's ruined _everything_.

Mark _hates_ him. 

He starts to hyperventilate, the sounds of staccato breathing filling his room. A gentle knock pulls him out of his head just long enough to look towards his door. Kathryn stands there, a worried frown sitting on her lips. 

"Ethan, what's wrong?" It's spoken just soft and warm enough to pull another gut-wrenching sob from him. He turns and hides his head into his pillow, refusing to look at her. Embarrassment floods his veins but it does nothing to quell the wetness leaking from his eyes. 

There's a shuffling noise before he feels the bed dip beside him, a warm hand coming out to rest soothingly on the back of his shoulder. It rubs delicate circles into the tense muscle there. 

"It's okay. Whatever it is, you'll be okay. I promise. I'm here. Shh." She tries to soothe him as best as she can, murmuring soft words and lending comforting touches. It does nothing to calm the overwhelming guilt he feels, heart-clenching every time he thinks about it. 

Soon his sobs die down, breath evening out as he cries himself to sleep, Kathryn trying to comfort him the whole time.

The next thing he knows, he's alone in his darkened room, eyes puffy from the abuse they took earlier. His limbs feel heavy as he rolls onto his back, exhaustion digging it's nasty claws into him. Hazel eyes stare up at the ceiling while his anxious fingers go to play with his sheets. 

If he just never left the safety of his room again he would be fine. There's absolutely no way he would be able to ever face Mark again. 

As if Mark ever even wanted to talk to him again. 

Which is a damn shame considering the whole Unus Annus thing they got going on. He lets out an unamused snort at the thought, eyes fluttering back shut as he desperately tries to fall back asleep.

The vibration of his phone has him cracking an eye open, swatting around his bed lazily as he searches for the dreaded thing. God, what time was it? Who was trying to get ahold of him at what? He turns his head, checking the time on the clock set conveniently on his nightstand. 

11:24 PM.

Confusion quickly turns into panic at seeing Mark's nickname flash across his screen. 

**Markimooooooo**  
**Sent: 11:24 PM**  
**Hey. Are you awake?**

He doesn't want to respond but that same nagging guilt creeps back in, forcing him to respond.

**Sent: 11:26 PM**  
**Yeah. Why?**

**Markimooooooo**  
**Sent: 11:28**  
**Okay.**

And, well, _that_ doesn't settle well in the pit of his stomach. He's not entirely sure what to do with that text. Uncertainty hangs heavy in his bedroom as he curls up on himself once more. He's successfully ruined his relationship with one of his best friends simply because he's a fucking dumbass.

He's going to have to move back to Maine, there's no god damn way he's staying here in LA, surrounded by Mark's friends. His heart constricts at that thought. They're his friends too, but he knows he can't retain a friendship with any of them after what's gone on between him and Mark. They knew Mark first. They'd choose Mark. 

It's simple. 

He's _really_ fucked up this time.

The knock at his bedroom door is unexpected and nearly leaves him jumping out if his skin. He turns back to the clock, the green numbers reading 11:43 at night. What could Kathryn want at this hour?

"Eth, can you open the door?"

Well, that is certainly not Kathryn's voice. 

His heart doesn't know if it wants to hide from Mark, or burst from his chest to get to the man on the other side. 

"What-" he whispers before cutting himself off. He stands from his bed, walking towards the sliver of wood separating the two of them before continuing, voice rising in volume, "What the fuck?" There's no venom in his voice, just confusion spilling from the tip of his tongue.

"Uh, Kathryn called and told me how upset you were earlier." It's funny, Mark almost sounds nervous to Ethan's ears. "I know, I know, you don't want me to baby you, and I'm not trying too. I'm genuinely just a concerned friend." Mark tries to tack on, voice trailing off towards the end, almost as if he were afraid of upsetting Ethan. 

"I don't want to talk to you right now." It comes out sounding smaller than he intended, voice wobbling slightly on the last syllable. 

"Ethan, buddy, if it was something I did let me fix it. I'm already so sorry that I don't know what it is I did." There's a pleading tone in Mark's voice that Ethan's never heard before. There are no tears left in his eyes to spare, but his heart weeps in replacement. 

"It's not your fault. It's all me. God, it's all me. Just-" he takes in a shuddering breath, trying to steady his shaking nerves. "Give me some time, okay?"

"Eth, man, whatever it is you can trust me." There's a heavy pause between the two before Mark speaks again, "But, trust me it's fine if you don't want to tell me. You certainly don't have to tell me, I'll respect your privacy. But," he hears the forced chuckle Mark breathes out, "Can I just see you? I know I just said I'd respect your privacy and all, but I just really want to _see_ that you're okay. No talking required. I promise."

Much like most things in his life, he doesn't let himself overthink this. He pulls the door open slowly, using it as a makeshift shield as light slowly fades into his darkroom. Mark stands there, bathed in soft blue lighting, waiting patiently for him. His eyes are soft and worried-looking, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

"See, not dead," Ethan mumbles, adding on a very awkward-sounding laugh to try and lighten the mood. The tension between them has him feeling sick, he's not used to feeling like this around Mark. 

Mark lets a breath escape from his nose, eyes trailing up and down Ethan's body, checking Ethan over for himself. Once he's satisfied he gives a little nod, eyes landing on Ethan's. It has him itching to close the door on those perceptive eyes.

"Uh, can I shut the door?" 

Mark's face falls, but he nods, taking a step back, "I'll get going then."

"Okay. See you when I see you." Ethan adds, voice trailing off as he makes to shut his door. He watches the way Mark forces himself around, a dark flush covering his cheeks, a watery glint to his wild eyes. 

"Is it because I like you?" His features seem conflicted, almost as if they're not sure if they want to be embarrassed or heartbroken. "I-I wasn't trying to make it that obvious." He looks absolutely wrecked, his hand messing with his hair. "Fuck, we usually play flirt anyways, but god, I probably pushed it to far this time and made you uncomfortable. I didn't want you to find out like this."

He's rambling on, voice high and nervous, but it sounds more like ringing to Ethan's ears. His mind starts to wander back to earlier in the day, the flirty remarks that he thought were normal and in jest all flooding back. 

"Dude, uh, you like me?

Mark looks confused, mouth hanging open slightly after he answers a quiet, "Yeah?" 

"Oh." He feels like he's going to blackout. Blood rushes to his face, burning his cheeks almost painfully as his vision begins to fog with black spots. He leans even more heavily on his door, everything he's been feeling starting to take a physical toll on him. 

"Oh?" 

"Uh," He lets out a breathy laugh full of disbelief, it quickly turns maniac, laughter clawing it's way up his throat and jumping from the safety of his mouth. His stomach starts to ache with the force of his hysterics, causing him to double over, one set of fingers desperately grabbing at the doorknob to steady him, the other hand trying to force back his painful laughter 

"Shit, Ethan, what's going on?" Mark sounds panicked now which, admittedly, only makes him laugh harder. Ethan's nearly positive he's losing his fucking mind. 

It's midnight and his best friend and recently discovered crush just admitted to liking him back. 

Mind you, all of this took place _after_ Ethan had a whole fucking meltdown over his newly discovered feelings.

"You're really fucking worrying me, man."

"I-" he giggles, desperately trying to stop his laughter as he speaks between his fingers. "I like you too."

"What?" Mark asks disbelief bleeding into his worried expression. 

"This day has been literal fucking hell for me!" His laughter quickly starts to subside, as he realizes just how tired he is now. 

"I just realized I liked you today. I-" he slumps against his door, head banging against the corner of it. "Shit. I thought I ruined everything." 

"Fucking hold on." Mark holds up a hand, shock and disbelief mixing with his already confused expression, "You like me too?" 

"Dude, I'm trying to tell you about my mental break down," Ethan chokes out, giggles threatening to come back as the situation starts to really set in.

What turn did he take for his life to turn into some kind of shitty romcom?

"Shit, sorry, you're right. Now's not the time." Mark pauses, nodding seriously as he waits for Ethan to continue. It's absurd how genuine Mark is, how much he cares. 

"You're a fucking dork."

"Hey! Man, that's not cool, I'm here for you. I want to hear what you have to say. What you were feeling. You clearly were having a rough time."

"Does it matter?" Ethan asks, a genuine smile working its way onto his lips.

"Of course your feelings matter." Mark says this looking at Ethan as if he had sprouted wings. 

"Will you kiss me?"

"Do you need to talk about-"

"What I _need_ is a fucking kiss, my dude."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Mark says fond exasperation rolling off the tip of his tongue, eyes rolling to add to the effect, "You need me to kiss your wittle heart better?"

"Yeah, you fucking jerk." He pulls Mark into him, but pauses just before their lips meet, a question hanging heavy between them. Mark answers him by leaning in and pressing his lips to Ethan's.

Ethan curls his free hand into Mark's shirt, relief flooding him as Mark's stubble scratches along his chin. 

Mark pulls back first, gently cradling Ethan's head in one of his hands, thumb stroking over his cheek. His other hand works on tracing his lips, it's soft and soothing, leaving Ethan a puddle on the floor. 

"We still have a lot to talk about." Mark speaks softly, voice a low comforting timber to Ethan's ears. 

"In the morning?" He asks, slightly dreading the fact that they'll indeed have to talk about Ethan's little meltdown. 

On the plus side, they'll probably also have the boyfriend talk too. Now _that_ is something Ethan has to look forward too.

Mark smiles, his own tiredness showing now.

"Yeah, in the morning." He pulls back, leaving Ethan feeling cold as he turns, "I'll be on the couch."

Ethan just rolls his eyes, grabbing for Mark's wrist as he tugs him back. He opens his door fully, almost accidentally banging it against the wall in his haste. "You're _not_ sleeping on the couch when you could be holding me in my bed."

His eyes widen, his own brashness startling him. "Uh, that's if you want-"

Mark laughs, eyes crinkling. "There's nothing else I'd love more."

**Author's Note:**

> as always i love the girls, amy and mika. 
> 
> and just for reference my dudes, i see the boys as their online personas i dont know the boys nor do i claim to know em. they're just characters to me! i respect them and adore them and if they ever found this or any of my other works i'd absolutely delete it!
> 
> anyways!! i hope y'all enjoy love ya!
> 
> comments are always appreciated.


End file.
